along the blue shore

Jun 01, 2025

Last month, I had the honor to celebrate my fifty-ninth birthday in the company of secret poets and sisterhood—to be one of nine women who came together along the blue shore of the Isle of Lewis because we believed in the possibility of living each moment as if it were a poem.

What compelled me to embark on this journey at this moment is mostly a mystery, something I might have talked myself out of taking in years past, except sometimes you receive an invitation that grows into a calling you cannot ignore. Sometimes, for every rational reason that makes saying yes feel impossible (the timing, the money, the fill-in-the-blank), the irrational brag of your heart says otherwise, and you know that not answering the call will leave you forever with the ache of wondering of what might have been.

It’s taken me a lifetime to get quiet and listen to these yearnings. To not stuff them down or drink them away. To let go of the pretense of who I thought I was supposed to be for others, to become undone, to come back to myself and live my one wild, precious life.

As I approached the edge of a decade of profound change, I knew I was ready to give myself the gift I offer to those who meet me on Monhegan. I wanted to get to know myself on the shore of another island—to be on retreat and embrace uncertainty as creative possibility with a wholehearted yes.

On the day of our arrival, I turned to a woman I had known for less than an hour and nervously blurted out that this was the year I was going to figure out what I was going to be when I grew up. Somehow, it felt birthday-appropriate to answer the question that has nagged me my entire life,

“Tell me, Sarah, what exactly is it that you do?”

Elisabeth looked me in the eye and smiled. “I used to feel the same,” she said, “But here is the secret no one tells you—you don’t have to figure it out because you are already living the life that was meant for you in all its exquisiteness.”

And in that moment, I knew everything was going to be okay.

For five days, I allowed myself to be held in a circle of women, to be serenaded in five languages on my birthday, and wrapped in ribbons. Together, we moved softly, softly toward beauty, writing, reading, receiving each moment as if it were a poem to be shared, some signed between fingers, others tumbling down from the sky.

We wrote in response to the spirit of the drum and our beating hearts, accompanied by the scent of smoked sage. We carried poems in our pockets, written on tiny scraps of paper, then tucked them beneath each other’s pillows like love notes.

We walked across the white sands to the edge of the sea in search of shells or smoky quartz. We traveled to the Shiant Islands to picnic on the water in the company of grey seals and seabirds and so many puffins!

We believed there was enchantment lurking beneath the Haar and that we were only secret poets if we chose not to speak. We breathed into one another, we listened to one another’s souls, and we became sisters in story.

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For five days, I lived offline
allowing myself to be held 

in the quiet of an endless ocean
in the palm of the bluest sky
opening my eyes to a world inside

to be in the majesty of eight stags
welcoming me to my day

to listen to all that is calling me
to not be afraid to ask for what I want

to see and be seen in the eyes of another

to collect words,
to hold them close
in my heart and hand 
then to gently blow them into the breeze - 

my blue kisses

to find a single piece of seaglass
in the shape of a heart
to fall in love with my life again (and again)

On the last day of the retreat, we traveled to a labyrinth, walking the path together, winding our way toward its center. I remembered what Elisabeth told me, and with each step, I made a promise to honor my way as an artist, to trust in every exquisite twist and turn because I’ve needed every stumbling block, every stepping stone to become myself along the way.

My birthday wish to all is that you may encounter many poems—the ones you are meant to live, the ones you are meant to write, both the bitter and the sweet, and never forget to keep moving softly, softly toward beauty.

Thanks for reading!

xosew

ps

If the idea of finding yourself on retreat appeals to you, one space remains for Braiding Sweetgrass: Breathing Stories.

This year, more than ever, I am grateful to know the island is there, waiting to listen to hold and behold the fullness of these current times. If you feel the same, it would be my honor to share Monhegan’s magic with you!

gathering (in grace) notes • writing circle

Begin your week gathering in good company!

Every Monday, 7:30 - 8:30 am ET, I host an online writing circle to encourage a creative start to the week. Each week, you are invited to come as you are. We greet one another before sitting in a moment of silence. I’ll offer a poem and a prompt for those days you don’t know how to begin, and then we write for 60 minutes with our screens on or off—that’s it!

This is a free offering for all. If you find you are attending regularly and wish to make a donation in support of maintaining the space, you can always buy me a book. register once, and the link is yours forever ✍🏻

I want to join the circle

one more space…. . join me on retreat … .. …. .

Braiding Sweetgrass: Breathing Stories

September 17-21, 2025 | Monhegan, ME

For the fifth year, I invite you to join me for an intimate retreat on Monhegan. Our program is an embodied book group, journeying and journaling through the wisdom and words of Robin Wall Kimmerer’s memoir Braiding Sweetgrass with the magic of Monhegan. I’m thrilled to consider the possible ways Kimmerer’s storytelling will become the guide to writing our own. Together, we will write through the island's topography, the geography of our senses, and our storied experiences. There will be ample time to search for sea glass and hike the trails through Cathedral Woods to the rocky shores of Pebble Beach.

Through writing, ritual, and restorative yoga, we will meditate, celebrate, and honor the variations of our authentic voices, as can only happen when you find yourself on this artist's island 10 miles out to sea.

tell me more

and … . .. . . …. if you ever thought of creating your own retreat… . ..

my cottage still has three weeks open to rent at the beginning of the summer ~ contact Brackett Rentals for info, and let see•vue be the sanctuary for your story!